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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187684">sung/meouch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagemanmilo/pseuds/garbagemanmilo'>garbagemanmilo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Corporal Punishment, Genital Piercing, Grinding, M/M, Mouth Kink, Omorashi, Over the Knee, Piss, Smut, Spanking, Trans Commander Meouch, Trans Doctor Sung, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Wetting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:14:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagemanmilo/pseuds/garbagemanmilo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some Sung/Meouch fics that I don’t feel like posting separately.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Commander Meouch/Doctor Sung (TWRP)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. feel me up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>   “Dude, you got huge teeth,” Sung muttered, sleepily prying open Meouch’s mouth. The feline-hybrid let it slide (for the time being), deciding to let his captain feel his rather large, sharp teeth. He wasn’t going to bite down, so what was the big deal? Just as that thought finished, Sung’s fingers brushed his sandpaper-rough tongue. Involuntarily, Meouch closed his mouth, unable to stop himself as his instincts kicked in; he wasn’t even aware he had them. Sung’s eye widened, and for a second Meouch was afraid he’d bitten the frontman’s hand. He opened his mouth up quickly and pulled his head away, Sung’s hand plopping out of his mouth, covered in spit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry, instincts. My feral brain probably thought I’d caught a mouse,” the feline joked, but Sung didn’t laugh, and suddenly Meouch had a lapful of a very eager band member frantically kissing him. “Woah, woah,” Meouch gasped, and carefully placed a paw between himself and Sung, effectively keeping them both apart. “Your tongue,” the captain mumbled, his good eye going all glassy and then Meouch felt a hot wave come over him. “My...? You <em>can’t</em> be serious.” Sung just nodded, curls bobbing as he leaned forward again. “Please, man, c’mon,” he begged, and <em>fuck</em>, Meouch really couldn’t resist the other man’s face. Nervously, Meouch lolled out his tongue, and leaned closer to the frontman, pausing to make sure Sung really, truly wanted this. At the little nod, Meouch took a deep breath and pressed the flat of his tongue against Sung’s throat, slowly dragging it back into his mouth, and he could feel Sung’s moan vibrating throughout his tongue. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but <em>fuck</em>, here it was, and Meouch felt like he would cream his pants. If Sung’s reaction was anything to go by, the singer was close too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. kitted up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meouch finds out about Sung’s clit piercing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    Sung’s had his clit piercing for well over three millennia. He’d almost forgotten about it, really- he saw it every day, and the novelty has worn off. He rarely changed the silver barbell, just removed it for cleaning and maintenance, then replaced it. Of course, he had a wide range of body jewelry, he just usually wore a plain barbell. No one was going to see it, so why bother? When he’d recruited his bandmates, he had never thought of divulging that he had body piercings, mostly because it was highly unprofessional, and because it was sort of his secret. It felt nice to be so close with his crew and have something he didn’t necessarily have to hide, but something they would never see, as long as they didn’t walk in on him while he was changing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       Which is <em>exactly</em> how Meouch had found out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Granted, they had been dating for around two months at that point, but the only ones the Leonian had seen were his nipple piercings. Which he loved, don’t get it twisted, but when he walked in on Sung stripping down for his shower and caught a gleam of metal between his legs, Meouch was, well, surprised. He would never have guessed that Sung had a genital piercing. Sung had held his breath, staying as still as possible while Meouch’s eyes raked up and down his body, afraid that his boyfriend would react poorly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>      Sung really wasn’t prepared for the bassist to stride toward him and grab his hips, purring, “you have a clit piercing, huh, Doc?” With an unsheathed claw, Meouch flicked the little silver barbell in Sung’s hood, grinning when the singer’s eye fluttered closed. “Y-yeah, I- I’ve had it for a while,” Sung mumbled, hands sliding up Meouch’s arms, gripping them. “How long you had it?” Sung groaned, leaning his forehead against the Leonian’s shoulder, mind already going blank with pleasure. “Little- ah, <em>fuck</em>- little over three millennia?” Meouch simply hummed, sheathing his claws and rubbing his paw pad against Sung’s clit, now hard and twitching. “I like it, baby. Suits you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. bad boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    Of all the ways to spend a Friday night, Sung wasn’t expecting to spend it over Meouch’s knee with his pants pulled down. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’d been goading Meouch all night, prodding him, making dirty jokes, and when the feline had growled, “over my knee, now,” he had pushed his luck again and earned his bassist grabbing him by the back of his neck and dragging him over his lap. Meouch’s sharp claws had torn the back of Sung’s jeans beyond repair, much to his protests, and once he realized his boyfriend had a much firmer grip on him, he lay still, waiting for whatever Meouch would do next. The first slap came as a shock, quick, hard, and it took a full five seconds for the pain to hit him. He’d cried out, voice high and shrill, and that went ignored as the second came down in the same spot. Then it burned, and Sung whined, knowing too well Meouch wouldn’t answer his shrieks. After the fifth, his mind became fuzzy, his vision blurred from tears, and he was vaguely aware of himself begging, but he didn’t know what he was begging for, or against. Meouch just continued landing smack after smack on his ass, turning it red, no doubt, and tender. By the time Meouch finally said, “alright, I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Sung could hardly hear him. <br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He was nearly asleep, eyelid drooping over a yellow-green iris, and he was slack-jawed, drool oozing from the corner of his mouth. Boneless, Meouch pulled him up into an upright position and his brow creased in worry when Sung sobbed. “Sorry,” the feline mumbled, carefully laying Sung down on the couch and pressing his forehead to his. “I’ll be right back.” Sung just groaned, slurred something, and when he came to again Meouch had removed his underwear and put a pillow underneath his lower back. “Sorry about that. I kinda went too far.” With a little bit of a struggle, Sung croaked out, “no, no, no, it was- it was good, man. <em>Really</em> good,” he added, and Meouch sighed, ears flattened back. “I’m serious! I would’ve used our word if I wasn’t.” “Sure, ‘cause you were coherent enough to talk,” Meouch growled, sullen. Sung pushed up onto his elbows, a little frustrated. “I could’ve safeworded through our bond, Meouch. And did I?” He left the question hanging in the air for a second until Meouch opened his mouth, then answered, “<em>no</em>, I didn’t. Because I know you. I know you wouldn’t go too far, and you didn’t.” He let his voice soften. “Gods, baby, that was <em>good</em>,” he mumbled, falling back and laughing weakly. “So, <em>so</em> good.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. class rings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meouch has a love/hate relationship with Sung’s class rings.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Meouch is trying to keep quiet, but it’s really hard when Sung is three fingers deep in his cunt, hitting <em> that </em> spot inside him that lights his nerves on fire. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing his rings, thick, jeweled ones that are a size too large, so they keep slipping, being pushed back up his fingers with each pump, teasing, <em> al</em>ways teasing. The Leonian wishes he could be mad at the fucker, but he can’t even snap at him, not when his thumb comes up and presses against his clit, starts rubbing in quick, tight circles, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He vaguely remembers when Sung was showing him those same rings, the ones torturing him now. Something about them being class rings, whatever those were, and Meouch had made an off-hand comment about the girls Sung had gotten off while wearing them, and there’d been an odd look on the cyclops’ face when Meouch had said it. Like he was making a plan in his head, calculating. And now, it’s coming back to bite him, with the way the underside of the rings are brushing against his entrance, making him clench around the fingers inside him, and he reaches out, feeling blindly for Sung, yanks him down, and then he’s cumming, hips bucking up, thighs trembling around Sung’s hand, voice unsteady as he moans, all throaty and rough. “Mother<em>fuh- </em> fucker,” Meouch slurs, still riding out his orgasm, Sung’s fingers still deep inside him, lazily thrusting in and out, in and out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this idea came to me in a flash of brilliance</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. lazy morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sung is a morning person, and Meouch is not. He’s up early.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>   Sung is up early, as always. He’s definitely a morning person; he likes the night, sure, likes it fine, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> being up and about just before sunrise, making coffee and watching as the sky turns from dark red to a light yellow. So he’s a little surprised, scratch that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprised when he hears a light padding behind him and turns to see Meouch, rubbing his eyes and obviously still very much half-asleep. “Hey, man,” he greets the Leonian, who just yawns and stretches, then presses up against his back, chest to knees, flush. It startles Sung maybe a little too much, and he realizes that he’s sloshed about a quarter of his coffee out of his mug. He tries to sidestep and grab a paper towel, but Meouch snakes both arms around his waist, keeping him in place, rooted to that little spot in their kitchen as the sun comes up. “Hey, Meouch, you gotta let go, I spilled-“ He’s cut off by a low groan, followed by the pressure of Meouch’s crotch on his ass. He’s too shocked to move, really, just stands there as the Leonian grinds against his ass, slow, easy. Sung can feel the hot breath on the back of his neck, coalescing with his own rising body temperature and making it harder to think. As if that isn’t agony in and of itself, one of Meouch’s hands starts gliding up Sung’s stomach, pausing just for a second at the faded, pale scars under his pecs, tracing, before passing once, twice over his core, hot, burning hot, melting out of his chest. It’s almost too much, the feeling of Meouch’s erection against his ass, his fingers probing the sensitive plasma of his core, forcing his heart to beat in-between his thighs, a steady pulse. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Meouch</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sung groans, reaching back to grab the Leonian’s hip, squeezing hard, and that tips Meouch over the edge, it seems, as his movements stutter, tense, and then there’s a warmth seeping into Sung’s boxers. “Gods, good morning to you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>more sexy shit with sung’s fat ass</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. accident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meouch has to piss while on the tour bus. Sung decides to play with him a little.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    Meouch knows he shouldn’t have had those beers, or three bottles of water, and now it’s come back to bite him in the ass. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, bladder, really</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks as he sits on the tour bus, squeezing his thighs together and jiggling his leg. His tail curls up over his crotch, as if that will help, and he curses every time the bus hits a pothole. “Drive a little smoother, Hogan,” he calls to the front, and sees Havve flip him off. Sung’s sitting across from him, flipping through a magazine, and he tilts his head. Meouch knows that he’s listening to whatever is being said through his and Havve’s link, and he doesn’t like the way Sung’s lips curl upward in a smirk. “Big bad Commander needs to go potty, huh?” The Leonian flexes his paws, claws unsheathing over the leather seats, but Sung just rolls his eye, leans back, and looks down at the magazine in his hand. “Don’t worry, Meouch, you can be the first in the bathroom once we get there,” he says, and it takes all Meouch’s willpower to not grab himself when the bus hits a bumpy patch of road. His need to piss is growing more and more urgent as the seconds pass, and by the time the bus slows to get into the parking lot of the venue, Meouch jumps up, and immediately covers his groin with a paw. He sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes himself through his jeans, and turns away from Sung’s smug little grin. “Fuck off, Doc,” he hisses, and shouts when the bus brakes hard. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hogan?” He feels a strong grip on his arm, pulling him back down. “Stay in your seat, Meouch.” He whips his head back, growing hotter under his fur when he almost falls into the cyclops’ lap. “Goddammit,” he mumbles, then flinches at the hand rubbing over his swollen bladder. “Doc, </span>
  <em>
    <span>quit it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m serious,” but Sung just presses down, grinning when Meouch gasps and bows his head down, trying not to piss himself by sheer will. “Just let go, Commander,” is whispered in his ear, followed by a rough jolt from Sung’s hand and the bus, and Meouch keens high in his throat as the dam breaks. The stream comes out hard, an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>hss </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he’d be embarrassed by if it didn’t feel so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He closes his eyes, breath coming out in ragged pants as his bladder drains, soaking his jeans and the seat underneath him, and he can smell the acrid stench of his own urine. It feels like Meouch is pissing for a minute straight, and he’s riding the high of relief, his hips bucking up slightly, and then the stream slows to a trickle, then stops altogether. He goes slack in his seat, groaning quietly, his pants sticking to his thighs like glue, piss already cooling.</span>
</p>
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